


Haunting

by Piroco



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Graphic Description of Corpses, Guilt, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kashoku's Sweet Pandemonium, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Murder, Nightmares, Psychological Horror, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Torture, Unhappy Ending, Unreliable Narrator, Vomiting, felt like pointing that out lol, holy shit, this is a TW party
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-03-20 10:16:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13715568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piroco/pseuds/Piroco
Summary: Haunting [hawn-ting, hahn-]1. adjective: remaining in the consciousness; not quickly forgotten.2. noun: the act of a person or thing that haunts; visitation.Based offSweet Pandemonium by KashokuON HIATUS





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kashoku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kashoku/gifts).



> HAPPY SUPER BELATED BIRTHDAY KASHOKU!
> 
> This was supposed to come out the 11th, but then this monster grew and I couldn't stop writing until it was at almost 14k words. Whoops. Still, hope you like it :D
> 
> As always, MIND THE TAGS. Like the fic it's based on, this is not for the faint of heart. I think the tags cover all potential TW, but if I skipped anything, please let me know.
> 
> Special thanks not only to Kashoku for writing Sweet Pandemonium and destroying my heart regularly, but also to the lovely [Astersapphire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astersapphire/pseuds/Astersapphire) for reading my disjointed ramblings for this fic!
> 
> For the thought process behind this piece, see below in notes!
> 
> EDIT 02/20/2017: Some slight spellchecking and re-writing, since apparently I proofread this thing 3 times and still skipped over like 100 mistakes.

Yuuri was feeling content that day.

It had been a successful meeting. The Kikuchi-gumi were good business partners and sympathetic to his cause; they had sent a representative with a proposal for his group, to carry out the kidnapping of nine sons, including the heir, of an enemy clan. While Yuuri was usually against such violent methods, and not too keen on the Kikuchi-gumi’s more unsavory practices, these boys were already infamous as violent, rude, spoiled alphas, some of them having previously engaged in The Hunt, more likely to bring further chaos in the region if allowed in any position of power. Thus, Yuuri felt little shame on the fate that would await them. After all, he was sure they would do much better to the world as organ donors for the needy than they would as anything else.

By the end of the evening, the operation was reported a success, all the targets were captured, delivered, and all payment completed. Both sides held their part of the negotiations, and hopefully this would mean more business support from the Kikuchi-gumi as an extra for helping them get rid of personal enemies.

By the time he was on his way back home, it was already past evening.

His bond had been too quiet today. Viktor had been in a sullen mood for the better part of the month, spending every waking hour he could fussing over Vitaly, holed up in their room, or as it was more often the case, both. While Yuuri didn’t enjoy being put aside like that, he could appreciate how attentive Viktor was to their son, and how experienced he had gotten at controlling the infant’s mood swings. Perhaps he could take him to skate tomorrow, Viktor was usually happier after some time on the ice, and if Yuuri was honest he missed watching his skating as well.

He let himself relax to the images of Viktor’s graceful movements, almost falling asleep in the backseat.

It was then when he felt it.

The searing burn in his neck, _his mark_. It made the world go white for an instant, his body double over and his eyes tear. His mind was taken by primal fears at first, maybe he had been wounded, his neck broken or sliced, for there could be no other explanation for the blinding pain that had taken over him; but as he came back to reality, to his driver’s “Aniki! What’s wrong?!”, his mind could make up the one reason his bond would burn like that.

_Viktor._

“I-I’m alright now! I need you to get back home immediately, it’s urgent!”

The driver hesitated for a moment before nodding “Understood,” and making the rest of the way at top speed. It was his fortune that the streets were mostly empty at that time of the day.

He didn’t wait for the car to make a complete stop before throwing open the door and running towards the mansion; the burn of his mark had turned into a painful, beating throb, like an open wound. He rushed past his disconcerted underlings, through the foyer, into the main hall, the hallways, and the door to his room, where he could hear Vitaly crying. He threw the door open.

And was met by the fallen, bleeding body of his mate at his feet.

A near-bestial scream came out of his lips. “ _Viktor!!!_ ”

Viktor laid sprawled face down. From under him a growing pool of blood, trailing from next to Vitaly’s cradle, stained the floor. Yuuri immediately dropped to his knees, forcing himself to rein in his panic to carefully hold Viktor and turn him around, but as soon as he did, his eyes caught the tear of holes in Viktor’s blood-stained sweater. Stab wounds.

His underlings rushed in, alerted by his scream, and before any of them could ask what had happened, Yuuri barked his orders. “Bring help! Bring a doctor! Anyone!! _Now!!!_ ”

He didn’t turn around, dimly aware of the increasingly-distant sound of footsteps and his son’s wailing, all his world centered on his mate, his _dying_ mate in his arms. He refused to give up hope despite the severity of the injuries, Viktor still breathed, he would live, he had to live. He tried comforting his mate, releasing calming pheromones, gently petting his hair and whispering a litany of “I’ll be alright, it’ll be alright, it’ll be alright...”

But Viktor didn’t look at him, his wide-open eyes, dulled with pain and fear, staring straight to the roof. His lips trembled with broken, unspoken words, until a sound came through.

“D-d… D-d-d-nt… W-w-w...”

“Shhh, Viktor, it’ll be alright. Don’t waste your strength, help is on the way.” Yuuri dropped a kiss, and a few stray tears, onto his mate’s face. But Viktor’s kept muttering.

Until a sharp intake of air…

And then…

 

“D-d…

D-d-on...t…

W-w-w-ant…

t… t... Die…

H-h-h-e-re…”

 

Viktor went limp in his arms, eyes unfocused, a whistle of air leaving his lips. Yuuri’s eyes widened, he touched his mate’s face, called his name, louder and louder. Nothing. Viktor was gone.

Yuuri howled in horror.

* * *

 

Yuuri felt like he was underwater.

Nothing else existed for him at that moment. Nothing but his bleeding, broken, _dead_ mate in his arms. He couldn’t think, he didn’t know what to do, he could only keep comforting the unresponsive alpha.

At some point, he became aware of an insistent pressure at his back and arms, gentle at first, but growing in intensity. His attention sharpened when he noticed hands trying to take his Viktor away. He struggled against the pressure and the hands, he pulled harder as they pulled back, muffled cries filled his ears, and his throat felt sore with pain. He plunged back into nothingness when his mate was wrenched from him, unaware of his surroundings.

He completely ignored the shuffling of feet and voices around him. Blank faces speaking to him in an unintelligible language. He remained slack when a set of arms lifted him from his position. He was taken somewhere else.

Slowly, as if waking from a long sleep, Yuuri's attention caught on the silence that took over the mansion. He found himself sitting in the main hall.

It took him a moment to recover from the confusion. When he did, when he remembered the grisly sight of his mate as he came back home, he despaired…

He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to be left alone in his room until the world died out. He wanted to hold Vitaly in his arms and never let go. He wanted Viktor. _He wanted Viktor_. He wanted Viktor to come back. He wanted to hold him, to kiss him, to trap him and punish him and scream at him for ever daring to leave him behind...

But soon, his despair turned into bilious hatred.

More than anything, he wanted to _kill_.

He wanted to kill whoever dared to do this. Whoever dared to kill his mate.

His nails caved into the palm of his hands until he felt skin break underneath.

In time, more and more of his men came into the room. Yuuri lifted his head. They stared back expectantly, their faces pale and scared, their backs pulled taut in attention. Yuuri could smell their fear and distress, could sense the tremble of their hands and knees. If only he could see himself, his blood-shot, unblinking eyes, his bloodied clothes, inexpressive face belying the feral, demented scent that emanated from him… Maybe he would be afraid too.

Instead, he only felt cold fury flowing through his veins.

He rose slowly, and paced in front of the assembled, like a predator waiting for his prey to falter. None of his men spoke, too afraid of the beast stalking in front of them. It was Yuuri himself who broke the deathly silence.

“Someone entered my home and killed my mate.” His calm tone did nothing to disguise the venom. “Someone entered my home, my room, and _killed my mate in front of my child._ ”

No one said a word.

He didn’t turn to face them as he continued, fueled by his wrath. “Whoever did this knew most of us, including me, wouldn’t be around at the time. Whoever did this also knew exactly where to look, where my room was, and where my mate would be.” He grinded his teeth. “ _How the hell did they know all of this?_ ”

Cold dread filled the room. His underlings remained still.

“I will comb through every single corner of this town, the next, the next over, the whole region if I have to, until I find whoever did this. You will carry my orders, and find the culprit. Whoever shirks or refuses this order, I will dealt with _personally._ ”

He could smell terror, he had little patience for it. “This crime will not remain unanswered. Now scram!!”

He waited, staring down as every one of the assembled left the room, most passing through the foyer and out of the mansion. Once he was sure none of the addressed remained inside, he made his way back to the room. As he walked, he felt himself regaining control, the throbbing pain of his – broken, _broken_ – bond grounding him. His hands shook, but without the red veil of anger, he could think more clearly.

He had many enemies, true, but he never had let himself so vulnerable to an attack… Not until now. Stranger still, whoever the assailant was had targeted Viktor specifically,  and from the lack of report he could guess neither Vitaly nor his men were harmed. The killing itself was rushed, messy, violent, mauling Viktor and leaving him to die...

Had this been a response for the kidnapping of the alpha sons? It couldn’t be, it was too soon and he’d made sure to tie any loose ends. Somebody else? But who? He had made sure to keep any enemies at bay until now.

He ignored the desperate howling of his omega, as he forced his thoughts away from the sight of Viktor's body. He couldn’t break now...

Minami was waiting for him by the doorway to his room. “Aniki, everything is clean now and your son is resting again.” He added, in a quieter note. “It was really hard to calm him, he’s so scared…” He suddenly bowed as deeply as he could “I was supposed to be alert. This is my responsibility. Aniki, I accept any puni--”

“Enough,” Yuuri raised his hand to quiet him. “No more. We will deal with the assailant first.” If he focused on his grief now, he wouldn’t stop. He had to keep his wits. He opened the door.

The threshold and floor were still stained in blood.

“Minami, what is this?” He snarled.

“W-what is what, Aniki?”

“The blood is still there.”

The younger stared at him with wide eyes. “I-- I made sure to clean it thoroughly…”

“Then what am I seeing?” He had no time for games, he needed to be rested for tomorrow. He needed every ounce of energy he could to hunt down the bastard who had killed his mate.

Minami gaped at him. “I-I’m sorry Aniki, I’ll clean it right this time. Go rest at the guest room for now – I’ll move your son there in a moment. I apologize for the blunder.”

Yuuri nodded. He felt a twinge of sympathy. Minami was one of his most diligent men. He didn’t think him the type to laze or make jest of a situation like this. For such an oversight, he must be emotionally drained too. He forgave it this time.

He made himself ready for bed. When he entered the guest room, already prepared for his stay, Vitaly’s cradle was already in place, and the child in quiet – if troubled, given his grimace – sleep. Yuuri brushed his fingers through the patches of silver hair, and stopped when he felt himself tear up. He went to bed.

That night, he dreamed of Viktor, his glassy, sorrowful eyes, and his dying plea.

* * *

 

Yuuri felt as if he hadn’t rested at all.

The events of the past night and the absence of Vitaly’s cries – so used was he to being woken by his son – startled him awake. Instinctual fear drove him to frantically look for his son. At his racket, Minami entered the room, Vitaly in his arms – the baby was munching on a soft toy.

“Ah! I’m sorry Aniki. I thought you needed to rest, so I took care of little Vitaly for the night.” His bright smile belied the black circles under his eyes. “Breakfast is ready. I imagine you’d like to get back to the hu-- seach,” he visibly faltered, “as soon as possible. There’s already a few reports waiting for you.”

That’s right…

Last night was a reality.

He wished he could avoid it. That he didn’t have to return to a world Viktor had been ripped away from so brutally. He wished he could stay forever in this room, undisturbed, waiting for his mate to cross the threshold to him. But he couldn’t; he couldn’t escape reality. All he could do now was…

_Avenge him._

He focused on Minami's words. It was pity what he gave Yuuri. Pity from someone that should be looking up at him for strength, not sympathy. Yuuri felt ashamed of himself. He wouldn’t be ungrateful for the support, but he also didn’t have the energy or the want to express it.

“What time it is?” He curtly said instead.

“Almost six in the morning now, Aniki.”

Good, early results. He didn’t waste any more time, dismissing Minami and making himself ready.

Yuuri barely touched his breakfast, occupying himself with reading his men’s reports thoroughly and repeatedly. As it was detailed, none of his known enemies had been seen crossing his territory for the last few months, either individually or in groups; there was no suspicious activity from either allied or neutral clans, including the Kikuchi-gumi; there had not been any suspicious movement inside Fukuoka. The only lasting clue were missing fragments of the security camera recordings, shy of ten minutes before his arrival.

But other than that, nothing. _Nothing._ Not a single hint to the murderer’s identity.

Yuuri growled in frustration.

Suddenly, he heard a mournful whine at his side.

When he turned, he found Makkachin butting her head against his arm, Vicchan not far behind. He lifted his arm, allowing the dogs closer, and sofly pet Makka’s head. It didn’t alleviate his pain, if anything, this was another reminder of what he had lost...

Another reminder of the body that now laid hidden inside a body bag in the mansion’s cellar. He still had to decide what to do with Viktor's...

Yuuri bit the inside of his cheek. The pups’ whining intensified, feeling his distress. The was no point to stalling. He had to call his family.

His hand shook slightly as he pulled out his phone and pressed down the first contact in his directory.

“...Yuuri?”

“Nee-san, am I interrupting?”

“No, it’s fine, slow day.”

He thought of what he had to say, once, twice, and again; his hands kept trembling, he held back a sob and counted to ten.

“Yuuri…? Something wrong?”

“Viktor…” He bit his lips, and silently counted to five. “It’s Viktor, he-- he-- he was murdered.”

From the other side of the call, he heard a sharp intake of breath, a muttered “Shit”, footsteps, and what sounded like a door sliding open and closed. Finally, his sister’s voice was on the line again, breathless. “How?”

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes. “...Stabbed in my room… I-I was away… We-- We still don’t know who--” A sob broke through. Yuuri gripped the edge of the table, trying to steady his breath as the poodles curled around him. His vision was blurring out.

From the other end of the line he could hear his sister’s voice calling his name. “Yuuri--  Yuuri. Listen to me, Yuuri-- Just breathe. In and out. In, and out. Follow me.”

He did as he was told, breathing in time with her instructions. After a moment, he felt the dizziness ebb away.

“... T-thank you, nee-san.”

“Don’t mention it…”

Both went silent. Just as Yuuri was about to speak, he heard Mari’s voice again. “Yuuri… Is there anything we can do?”

One thing.

“Yes… I want to-- want to bury V-Viktor in Hasetsu.” At her silence, he continued. “He… If this hadn’t-- If this hadn’t happened, he would have been my husband-- My family....” He sobbed. “M-my mate, my… I want to bury him as my husband, in the family’s garden…”

“I understand. I’ll make preparations for the ceremony. Do you need anything else?”

“Yes…”

Vitaly. The stark reality of the danger his son was in. If the killer was capable of slaying Viktor in his own room, undetected, they could well do the same to Vitaly. He would not allow it. “It’s not safe here. Not for now at least. And after what… Happened. I don’t trust my home to remain safe, and I fear for Vitaly. It won’t be a--? I mean it’s not--”

“Yuuri.” His sister interrupted. “It’s not a problem. Least of all in this situation. Remember we’re you family, and we’ll help you however we can.”

“...Thank you, nee-san.” His throat ached again. “We’ll be there tomorrow morning.”

“Alright, we’ll be waiting. And, Yuuri?”

“Yes?”

“Make that murderous fucker regret it.”

He nodded in grim determination. “I’ll make sure he does.” With that, the call ended.

Yuuri put the phone down on the table. For now all he could do was wait for his men’s reports, and go through his recent deals. He wasn’t in the mood for the latter, but also couldn’t speed up the former.

As he sat thinking, his elbow brushed against Vicchan’s fur. He turned to the poodles and their innocent gazes. Maybe… Maybe he should clear his head. Take the dogs outside and sit for a moment by the pond. With his men in high alert, nobody would dare to disturb him.

He rose to his feet, opened the door to the garden and made a sound for the restless pups to follow him.

* * *

 

Yuuri tried his hardest to abate his anguish, but he couldn’t.

Trying to clear his mind at the pond proved fruitless. His bond still throbbed like a raw wound, his omega wouldn’t shut up. His thoughts easily strayed back to Viktor. To the images of his mate playing with the dogs, walking around the garden, sitting here near the pond with him, with Vitaly, reading, or just deep in thought by himself...

The melancholy reflected in his eyes when he thought Yuuri wasn’t looking…

The darkness in them as he breathed his last…

Makka and Vicchan couldn’t distract him for long. He opted to go through the reports, and then supervise the mansion himself.

By the evening, the search remained in a stalemate. No enemies in the area, no suspicious or underhanded activity from other clans, no trouble in Fukuoka, not even the rare small-time ambitious fool he was so used to curbing, nothing in the mansion.

No trace. Nothing. _Nothing._

Yuuri’s frustration grew at his powerlessness. How could a person just enter, kill, and leave as if nothing had happened? Maybe they had been hiding days before? Or they had distracted the guards somehow? Was there a spy in the mansion? What if…

Yuuri blanched. What if…

_What if Viktor did this to himself?_

Would he? He had been distant for months, only giving his attention to Vitaly, the dogs, and Yuuri – because he demanded it. Keeping to himself to the point of not leaving his room for anything other than the utmost necessities. Forgetting to eat some days, as his men had reported on occasion. Avoiding anything and everything that reminded him of the outside world…

It would make sense, would it not?

No.

No.

_No._

Yuuri shook his head.

It wouldn’t make sense. It was illogical. Viktor wouldn’t kill himself. Viktor wouldn’t kill himself in front of Vitaly. Viktor wouldn’t inflict such violence on himself. Viktor was not that kind of man. _Viktor wouldn’t kill himself._

...Unless he wanted to punish Yuuri--

_No. Stop._

Yuuri pressed his palms into his eyes.

 _No._ It did not make sense. I was foolish to think that. He had to remind himself. Those wounds – Yuuri had seen similar wounds before. The was no way a person could do that to themselves. Wounds like that could only be inflicted by another.

Besides.

Viktor’s dying words – Those were not the words of a person who wanted to die…

No. It couldn’t have been him. It had to be someone else.

But the question remained. Who did it? The murderer was only human. There must have been something, anything they had used to enter, kill his mate, and disappear as if there hadn’t been any guards--

Guards…

Yuuri bit his lips. It couldn’t be. They wouldn’t dare...

That after all he’s done for them, after they had sworn and proved their loyalty to him--

But it made an awful lot of sense. Nobody _but the guards_ could come and go inside the mansion without watch. His head burned.

He took his phone out and dialed. He had to test his suspicions, at least to free himself from doubt. “Akagi.”

“Yes, Aniki.”

“Have you confirmed all patrols from yesterday?”

“...No Aniki, after the assembly yesterday… We didn’t... Think it was necessary…”

He clicked his tongue. “It is now. Make sure every single man and woman who stepped foot here yesterday, even for a second, is accounted for” Yuuri waited for his confirmation to hang the line. It was a hunch, but if it paid off after all--

If one of _his own numbers_ was the culprit, he would destroy them.

He rose, it was back to the waiting game for him. It was already past evening, perhaps he should return to his room, check on Vitaly.

As he came through the threshold of his room, he was shocked still.

The blood… There was still blood on the floor.

_Fresh blood._

Yuuri’s felt ice run through his veins. This was-- This was impossible. Even if Minami had shirked the cleaning, the blood shouldn’t be fresh…

This had to be a lie. His emotions getting to him.

He kneeled in front of the stain. From up close it looked so real… Too real.

He put his hand on it. And when he turned his palm to his face, it was wet with blood.

Yuuri gasped in horror, staring at the blood coating his palm. When he experimentally rubbed his fingers together, he could feel it smear.

It was real… The blood…

_Viktor’s blood._

He tried rubbing his hands against the fabric of his pants in an attempt to rub the substance off, to no avail. He got more frantic, until he could feel his palms burn, but the blood stuck to them.

He gasped for breath, the edges of his vision grew darker. He ran for the bathroom.

He turned to the sink and slathered soap up to his arms. He cleaned over every dip and corner of his hands. And when he washed off the soap, the blood still clung to his skin. He tried again. And again. And again. In vain.

He got more desperate. He went for the bathtub and turned the valve. He didn’t wait for it to fill before he sunk his arms into the water, rinsing over and over, but the blood didn’t come off. He pulled liquid soap out of one of the shelves and squeezed it empty into the water, dunking his hands multiple times, uncaring of the soapy water splashing his clothes.

The blood was still coating his hands.

“W-w-why-- _Why-- Why doesn’t it come off--?!_ ”

He poured more soap, he rubbed harder at his arms, first with his hands then with a sponge. His desperation grew at the uselessness of his actions, and he began clawing at his hands and arms.

He heard crying outside. Shrill and loud at first, like a child’s--

But growing deeper, deeper, more pained--

Morphing into Viktor’s voice.

“P-p-please--! J-Just--! Come off!! _This blood won’t come off!!!_ ”

His head felt lighter. His heart thundered against his chest.

At some point, he lost consciousness.

When he came back to, he was lying on his bed. The lights were out. The digital clock at his side showed him it was past midnight. His arms burned with the familiar feel and smell of ointment. He got up, came closer to Vitaly’s cradle. The baby was sleeping inside.

Out of morbid curiosity, he turned to his hands.The blood still coated them. Further away, by the doorway, it still stained the floor. But under the blessed darkness it was harder to see.

Yuuri had to keep a hold of his emotions. This was going too far.

Nothing to do for now but rest, he supposed. Despite his suspicions, he knew most of his men were truly loyal, they would get the job done in his absence. Tomorrow he could go to his family, cool his head, get closure for Viktor… And hopefully himself.

He slid onto his bed again. He made a point to hide his hands under the pillow. It took hours until sleep finally claimed him.

That night, he dreamed of yesterday; of rushing to the mansion, into his room, and finding Viktor on the brink of death. He dreamed he wasn’t too late, he saved his mate, dressed his wounds and laid him on their bed. He dreamed of Viktor resting, resting, resting, never waking up...

* * *

 

Yuuri didn’t open his eyes as he stirred from sleep.

He tried fighting off his awakening. As tired as he still felt, he’d rather stay comfortably tucked under the covers. He unconsciously extended his arm, reaching for his mate, palm brushing against his chest.

Touching thick, wet, coppery-smelling--

Yuuri gasped awake.

He was alone in his room. By his side were only his discarded covers. Light filtered from under the door.

Still stained.

Yuuri did his best to ignore it – still fresh, like yesterday, like two days ago – focusing on waking up and getting himself ready. Today he was leaving for Hasetsu, he had to keep Vitaly safe, he couldn’t put him at risk here. He had to bury his mate… He’d rather not waste any more time.

If Yuuri was honest with himself, he couldn’t wait to depart for Hasetsu. He was still reeling from the loss of his mate, and this mansion was further draining him, torturing him with illusions. He needed some time away.

Until Viktor could rest in peace.

Until he could wrangle every ounce of life out of his killer.

As he finished dressing himself, he turned to Vitaly. His activity had roused the child, who now babbled away in his cradle, arms raised, begging to be held. Yuuri came closer – Vitaly let out a cry of joy as he did – and gently ran a finger through the white tufts on his head, to his plump cheeks.

He found himself unable to hold his gaze. Vitaly’s bright blue eyes – _Viktor’s_ – invoking a deep pain inside him, inside his tattered bond. He held the child to his chest instead, running a hand against his back, his face against the crook of Yuuri’s neck, so that he would not have to look at those eyes…

A voice came through the door. “Aniki? Are you awake?” It was Minami.

“Yes.”

“I heard movement so I guessed you were already up. Your family called to make sure of your arrival this morning. Do you want us to start the car now?”

“Yes, I’ll be packing my things in a moment.” He wanted to be at Hasetsu by now. He wanted out as soon as possible.

He was silently embarrassed at his own shamelessness. The last time he saw his family, it had ended badly, with him having a violent meltdown in front of them. Now, after months of not seeing his family, Yuuri was asking them to give him shelter, like a scared, defenseless child.

The logical part of his mind insisted it was reasonable. The situation was extreme. Mari had been supportive.

Yuuri wasn’t very good at listening to the rational part of his mind.

He would be departing first with Vitaly, his luggage light as he did not intend to be away for long, just enough for the funeral. Minami and Phichit would be taking care of Makka and Vicchan, more of a reward than a task for them, given their affection for the pups.

His men would be delivering Viktor’s body tomorrow for the ceremony.

Before departing, he walked into the cellar; Yuuri couldn’t help himself, even as he thought how morbid he was being. Viktor’s body was where it had been left, untouched. Yuuri opened the body bag, he didn’t know what he expected to see. Viktor’s visage had turned a bluish pale color; his eyes, now greyed and glassy, remained open; his face, though slack, had a semblance of sorrow. Even days after death, he remained a pitiful sight.

Yuuri put a hand to his mouth to quiet a sob. His omega keened in lament.

He brought a hand to Viktor’s eyes, to close them. “... You’ll be resting soon, I promise…” His voice was tremulous.

He stood in quiet contemplation during the drive to Hasetsu, Vitaly in a baby seat by his side, munching away at a little toy in his hands. Yuuri had noticed that lately, whenever Vitaly wasn’t sleeping, he was biting at something; Vitaly had never been much of a biter, even now that he must have begun teething, but since that night it had become a constant habit of him. Yuuri had suspicions to what could be the cause; he hoped it was temporary.

When he arrived, his family were already outside. He noted even Minako-sensei was waiting for him.

“Oh, Yuuri! It’s been so long!” His mother walked ahead, taking his hands on hers as soon as he stepped out of the car.

“Hello, kaa-san.” He greeted the rest of his family, his usual sheepishness made stronger by his embarassment. “Yeah, it’s been a while…”

Minako’s cooing voice came from the inside of the car. “Oh, you’re Vitaly? You’re such a cutie! Nice to meet you!” Despite the attentions, Vitaly remained comically uninterested as he was taken out of the vehicle.

The onsen was completely empty. There usually wasn’t much activity in the mornings, but Yuuri had a feeling his family had closed today for his sake.

During breakfast, his parents and Minako barreled him with questions about Vitaly, Phichit, his recent jobs, even Vicchan and ‘that adorable young man who’s always following you like a puppy’. Yuuri quickly noted how none of them spoke a word about Viktor; for a moment he thought Mari had failed to tell them, but from the passing comments about ‘tomorrow’s expenses’ and the cautious way they asked about Vitaly, he knew they were simply avoiding the topic.

Just as well. Yuuri could do with some respite before tomorrow.

They had set a kotatsu by the lounge. Yuuri made himself comfortable in it. The TV was on, playing the weather forecast; its sound was a simple background fixture nobody paid attention to. Yuuri crossed his arms over the table, resting his head on top.

“Yuuri, do you want katsudon for lunch?” His mother asked.

Even without the ever-present pain of his broken bond, Yuuri couldn’t help feeling somewhat guilty at being so indulged. But at the same time, he wanted to be coddled, to ignore the truth for just a moment. “Yes, kaa-san. Thank you.”

Lazily rolling his head over his arms, he turned to see Minako and Mari fussing over Vitaly, playing and baby-talking at him. For such an aloof child as he was, Vitaly had taken a quick liking to the women. At the moment, he was grateful for that.

In the comfortable warmth of the kotatsu, exhaustion bore its weight over him, seeping into his bones. It had been over two days since he had any restful sleep.

Surrounded by warmth and the sounds of his family’s voices and the news report, Yuuri fell asleep.

* * *

 

Yuuri couldn’t remember the last time he felt so elated.

He had feared his presentation would deny him the chance of ever being so close to the ice. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to step on it ever again, but his family had still allowed the chance of coming to this competition to see his idol live. They accompanied him on the surrounding seats. He couldn’t be thankful enough for it, that even when they understood little of his favorite sport, they were willing to share his enthusiasm for it.

The competition was fiery, the stadium filled with the cheers of the audience. Judging by the heated atmosphere, the other participants must have displayed some of the best performances of their careers, but to Yuuri they were as blurs on a screen. It was mean of him, perhaps, but he couldn’t care less. There was only one person who could catch his attention at that moment. And he would be performing so soon.

Yuuri’s eyes lighted up, and braced himself in anticipation.

“Representing the Russian Federation, fresh of his first gold in the Seniors division… Viktor Nikiforov!” The audience roared in excitement.

But he didn’t come.

What was happening?

“Representing the Russian Federation, Viktor Nikiforov!” The announcer called again. Still, Viktor didn’t appear.

The audience continued cheering. Yuuri felt unease.

Something was wrong…

“...Viktor Nikiforov!” The announcer, and the cheering, continued.

Viktor was still missing.

Anguish came over him. _What was happening?_ He turned to his sister, as she stared at the rink absently; he turned to his father, his placid expression was jarring; he turned to his mother, eyes in silent plea, and instead she simply asked “Are you enjoying yourself, Yuuri?”

“... Viktor Nikiforov!” The audience bounced in their seats.

No.

“... Viktor Nikiforov!” Their cheering turned to laughter.

No… No…

“... Viktor Nikiforov!” The laughter turned harsher, louder, mocking.

Why…?

He tried to get up, but his body was stuck to the seat.

“... Viktor Nikiforov!” Slowly, chanting could be heard in the distance, growing louder and louder, until the words became clear, and the whole stadium erupted in it.

_He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s gone!_

No… Stop…

“... Viktor Nikiforov!” _He’s gone!_ “... Viktor Nikiforov!” _He’s gone!_ “... Viktor Nikiforov!” _He’s gone!_

Yuuri couldn’t breathe. He tried to speak, beg them to stop, beg them to _please someone, please find Viktor, please stop laughing and find Viktor!_

The chanting continued. Yuuri couldn’t tune it out, he could only try and fail to beg with muted words.

“... Viktor Nikiforov…” _He’s gone!_ “... second anniversary of disappearance... “ _He’s gone!_ “...ruled as a willful escape…” _He’s gone!_ “...his coach, Yakov Feltsman and…” _He’s gone!_ “... mystery to the entire skating community…” _He’s gone!_ “...no trace of his whereabouts…”

_He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s gone!_

Please help him… Please…

Stop laughing... Help Viktor...

Stop laughing… Stop…

_Stop... Stop... Stop... Stop... Stop... Stop... Stop... Stop... Stop... Stop... Stop... Stop..._

_Stop please!!!_

 

“Turn it off! Someone, turn it off now!”

When Yuuri woke up, his line of vision was blocked; his face pressed against something – someone – as a pair of arms embraced him, hands running back and forth over his back. His eyes stung, his throat ached, and his omega wailed in distress.

Slowly regaining his senses, he recognized the smell of his mother, and from the corner of his eyes he saw Mari attempting to calm down a crying Vitaly in her arms. “It’s alright, Yuuri, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright…” His mother’s soft voice sung a comforting mantra to his ears.

He let himself be held like that, as he tried to even out the panicked pace of his heart and lungs. He could see his father and Minako coming from the side of the room, by the TV – now turned off. Yuuri closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, counting from zero to twenty and further, until he began to feel calmer.

He made a movement to sit up, his mother gently let go of him. “Yuuri, are you feeling better now?” She asked.

He wasn’t.

“Yes, kind of… Sorry for that… I… Fell asleep?” He tried to remember but…

“It was nothing important.” His mother said, at the same time his sister said “It was the news.”

“Mari!”

“Mom, lying to him isn’t going to help right now, sorry.” Mari said, in a surprisingly stern tone Yuuri would have never imagined her directing at their mother. Mari turned to him. “It was the news. You fell asleep with the TV on. They were running coverage on… Viktor’s disappearance. You must have heard it while sleeping. I’m sorry Yuuri, we didn’t notice until we heard you screaming.”

He felt his chest constrict. “Oh… I’m so sorry for scaring you...”

“No, Yuuri look--” Minako started, but was interrupted by a hand over her shoulder. It was his father.

His usual semblance of contentment was gone, replaced by a serious and solemn expression. He kneeled in front of Yuuri and softly held him by his biceps. “Yuuri, do not feel ashamed. You just lost your mate.” There was deep sympathy in his father’s eyes, an understanding beyond that of his sister’s and mother’s. “There’s nothing shameful about the pain you’re experiencing. Do not hide it, and do not reject it. Instead, turn that pain into your strength, to carry yourself onwards, to avenge Viktor, and live on for your son.” He slid his hands from Yuuri’s biceps, to hold his hands. “We’re your family, Yuuri. We’ll be your support whenever you need it.”

Yuuri’s eyes filled with tears, as he pressed his forehead into their hands. “T-t-tou-san…”

For the first time in years, Yuuri cried into his father’s arms.

Aside from that moment, the day was uneventful. His sister could only calm Vitaly down after bringing him his teething toy; the child remained quiet aside from his feeding and nap time. They ate katsudon for lunch – which tasted like ash to him – and later had a fancy sushi dinner he was sure must have taken a helping of their savings to purchase. It was all… Almost like a celebration…

They had remained mute on the topic of Viktor for the rest of the day. At this point, Yuuri didn’t say anything, but could no longer ignore it. Was his family so eager to forget Viktor? Even when his child was here? When they would be burying his body here tomorrow?

Even when he was Yuuri’s mate?

It tormented him. He didn’t sleep again. He couldn’t distract himself. Not even a soak in the hot springs – at his family’s urging – could steer away his thoughts. The pain of his mark intensified; Yuuri had palmed his gland a few times, thinking it had been ripped somehow.

By nightfall, in the darkness of his bedroom, cocooned inside the covers of the bed, Yuuri hears it again. All too familiar cries. He reminded himself that his little boy was awfully petty about his feeding time. But that still wasn’t enough to quiet the sounds, as he heard Viktor’s dying sobs…

He has a terrible realization then.

From the spooky stories Mari used to tease him with as a child, the urban legends his classmates used to share, the folk tales the old shrine maiden of Hasetsu used to tell him…

When a person dies, their grudges may shackle them to the world of the living, denying them passage to the afterlife, and forcing them to haunt places and people they knew in life. Being denied a proper burial, dying violently, burdened by a miserable life, remaining unavenged or unabsolved after death… They could all constitute a grudge.

Maybe…

Maybe Viktor is haunting him.

He has reasons to...

Yuuri doesn’t sleep that night. Instead, he ponders his next task.

* * *

 

Yuuri would find his family’ expressions funny, if the situation wasn’t so grim.

“...What?”

“I want to cancel the funeral.” He said, steeling himself to argue. “I’m taking Viktor back to Russia.”

His family stood quiet, their faces different shades of shock.

“Why the sudden change? Just yesterday you had agreed to bury him here.” His mother asked.

“It is sudden. I was thinking this night... That maybe Viktor would be happier if he was buried in Russia instead.” It was his home after all. There would be people mourning him there. Here, it was just Yuuri.

“Are your certain you want this? You made the choice overnight, after all.” His father said.

“Yes. I’m certain. More than any other choice I’ve made these days.”

“Yuuri.” Unlike his mother’s and father’s gentle coaxing, Mari’s voice cut through. “I won’t argue if this is what you really want. But the preparations were already done, the announcement made, all paid off… You know how this sudden cancelation will reflect on you, right?”

Yuuri’s semblance darkened. He knew. He didn’t care. Viktor was more important than any sycophant, envious yakuza.

“Yes. I’ll do it anyways. I’ll deal with the consequences.”

“Good.” Mari smiled at him, it didn’t reach her eyes. “Wouldn’t want my baby brother being half-hearted about sticking it to those pretentious bastards.”

It was Minako then who brought another dilemma. “Are you taking Vitaly back with you?”

Yuuri was speechless for a moment. Vitaly… If he was honest with his feelings...

“…No. If it isn’t a problem, I’d like for him to remain here with you, at least until I get things back in order.” Until he made sure Viktor was back in his homeland; until he made sure the murderer paid for his crime; until he could get himself back to an acceptable level of stability.

As he was now, he was too unfit. Vitaly deserved better; Viktor’s child deserved better.

That night, he returns alone to Fukuoka.

* * *

 

Despite his practiced mask of professional coldness, Yuuri felt like suffocating.

He had to do this for Viktor. To return him to his home, his real home, to rest. For all he had deluded himself into believing, Viktor was never happy in Japan. And after the way his life ended, burying him in Japan, in a hidden grave, instead of letting him return to his natal Russia would be like another humiliation.

So even if Yuuri wasn’t happy with it, he wouldn’t deny his mate this right.

He had to pull some strings to book the earliest private flight to Russia he could. Then he had to pull some threats to ensure Viktor’s body would not be further harmed on the way. The expenses may have been more than other Oyabun would be willing to pay, maybe that too would reflect badly on him, but the weight of this task he felt much heavier.

Contacting Viktor’s family had been… Difficult, to say the least. Not the information itself –  which Yuuri had already collected after he took Viktor away – but having to face the consequences of his deed. Yuuri had dashed away any chance of Viktor reconciling with his mother after taking him away, the woman simply vanished afterwards. Viktor’s closest “family” then was instead his coach, Yakov Feltsman. For all Yuuri experienced in the underworld, explaining to the elder what became of Viktor was a harsh reminder of the cruelty of his own actions, even when the elder failed to accuse him.

They had decided the time and place for their meeting, Feltsman’s residence in the outskirts of St. Petersburg. Yuuri made sure Viktor’s body was moved as carefully as possible, inside a plain black casket he knew would be discarded soon. The elder had promised there would be no foul play on his part; he knew how pointless it would be now.

He only wanted Viktor back, he had said.

As accorded, Feltsman had waited alone for Yuuri. The man matched his own coldness, curtly thanking him without specifying the reason. He did not ask how it happened, why it happened, when, or why Yuuri decided to bring back the body. He only asked Yuuri to not show himself at the funeral. “Viktor didn’t have many people close to him, but we respected him and… Loved him very much.”

“We would like to grieve in private.” Feltsman said. _Go away_ , Yuuri heard.

He looked like a defeated man. Yuuri briefly wondered if that would have been his father had Yuuri been the one to be taken away and returned as a corpse.

Suddenly a ruckus was heard from outside. Footsteps, shouting, pounding, breaking, closer and closer, until it reached the doorway. A tall blond man – Yuri Plisetsky, he remembered Viktor calling him – was standing by the door, eyes bloodshot, hands fisted and knuckles white, face and clothes disheveled. The blond glared at him with hatred Yuuri had never seen on any other man before.

“You fucking bastard…! You fucking bastard!! _You killed him!!!_ ”

The blond made a movement to lunge at Yuuri, but was quickly held back by three pairs of arms – a redhead woman, a black-haired man, and another leather-clad man; behind them an older woman had joined the struggle, trying in vain to pacify the snarling blond.

“Yuri! That’s enough!”

“Why?! Why the fuck did you let that fucking pig here?!”

“That’s none of your business! Stop making a scene!”

“No!! He deserves to die!! Let me kill him!!” The blond screamed, spitting and clawing as he tried to free himself. “He doesn’t-- doesn’t have any right!! He fucking killed Viktor!! He- He took him away, he raped him, he broke him, he- he- _he killed him!!!_ ” He tugged harder and harder, even as the others refused to let go.

“Yuri! Please stop!” The older woman pleaded.

“ _Nooo!!!_ ” His voice broke at the end, breathless, but his body still struggled. “I’ll kill him too!! I’ll kill him and his fucking hellspawn!! I’ll kill his fucking family!! I’ll kill everyone he knows!! I-I-I--!!” Yuri heaved, his energy all spent, his harsh breathing soon turned into sobbing as he made another weak attempt at freeing himself.

“He- he- he killed him. H-he us-sed and k-k-killed him...” His word cut heavy through his sobs. “... It-it’s… Not fair… Not f-fair... He did-didn’t… H-have to... Kill--”

The blond couldn’t speak anymore, dissolving into tears in the others’ arms. They let him go then, the leather-clad man put his arms around and hugged him from behind. The blond leaned into the hug, but didn’t stop crying.

All the while, Yuuri had been acutely aware of every word that was hurled at him. He couldn’t muster any offense, only shame.

“I apologize for his behavior.” Yuuri sharply turned his head, for a moment he had forgotten about Feltsman. The man held his head low, eyes obscured by the brim of his hat. “Mr. Katsuki, we’ll take it from here. You’re free to leave.”

He was being kicked out. His omega was insulted, furious, this was _his mate_ they were going to bury. But instead, Yuuri nodded wordlessly, walking through the opposite doorway, out of the house, and into the car that awaited him.

It was done. Viktor was home.

The driver took him back to a luxurious hotel in the city. Yuuri cared little for the name, or the receptionist’s face, and barely held his attention for the room number engraved on the key. Once inside, he shed his tie and sat in the bed – too large for one, just right for two – as he tried to ground himself from the day’s events. His mind replayed every word he heard from the blond.

His chest constricted, he couldn’t breathe. He undid the buttons of his suit, shedding the jacket, then his shirt, leaving his irezumi exposed. He barely felt the air in his lungs, his breathing turned harsher, his eyes stung. He knew what was coming, he had experienced it too many times. He quickly got up, pacing around the room, counting from zero to ten to twenty to fifty to one hundred, trying to force himself to breathe. He started counting out loud, to drown out the blond’s voice in his head. It did nothing, he felt the panic clawing at his insides.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror – eyes wide and sunken, messy black hair, ink-covered chest and arms – and thought to himself this was how Viktor’s murderer must look like. Like Yuuri.

Viktor was gone. Because of a man like himself. _Because of him._

Yuuri screamed.

He broke the mirror with his fists. He ripped the curtains with glass and bloody hands. He pulled the doors of their hinges. He broke every wooden chair. He brought down the table against the television. He destroyed anything that was within his reach. And when he ran out of things he took the mirror’s glass and brought it to his skin until he felt the pain pouring out. Exhausted, he dropped back onto the bed, mind blank and distant, until sleep claimed him.

That night, he dreamed of the moment he took Viktor away, how the happiness reflected in his eyes turned to despair, as Yuuri’s men grabbed him and plunged a needle to his neck. He dreams of his own cold satisfaction as they carried him away, to a doomed fate.

By the next morning, the images of his dream and the blond’s spiteful words still rung inside his head. He paid for all the damages, as the manager stumbled repeatedly on his own words before vetoing him away.

He didn’t care. He wasn’t coming back.

* * *

 

Yuuri felt vengeance thrumming in his veins.

Before his arrival back to Fukuoka, he was notified of his men’s success. They had captured Viktor’s killer, currently imprisoned in the mansion’s basement, waiting for Yuuri’s arrival. They had withheld the traitor’s identity. Perhaps this was their idea of a surprise gift. Yuuri could barely contain his excitement.

There had only been two other times in his whole life that he’d been this impatient. All three, he noted, had involved Viktor somehow.

As he stepped foot back into his home, he could hear his blood rush inside his ears, feel his hands tremble, and the rise of hairs in the back of his neck. The temptation to just run immediately to the basement and _rip apart_ the traitor with his own hands was too great. But he had to rein himself in. His men would be watching, hell, the whole region may be watching, as he was sure the news of his mate’s demise were on the entire underworld’s lips now. He had to maintain his dignity, his composure, follow protocol, and make an example out of this traitor. Then…

Then he could sate his thirst for revenge.

He went through the motions of normalcy. Listening to his men’s welcomes, waiting for them to take away his luggage, greeting the pups, taking the ‘ceremonial tools’ from a drawer and fitting them to his knuckles, and letting his men walk ahead of him as they opened the door to the basement.

Yuuri hoped none of them had seen the shock in his eyes as he took sight of the traitor.

Kiriyama had been one his most loyal. Yuuri had empathized with him from the start – a victim of the worst kind of abuse due to his secondary gender – and took him under his wing as he had nowhere else to go. Kiriyama had been one of the first to join him, and one of the very, very few to make a blood oath to him, entirely on his own, even as Yuuri tried to stop him.

Yet here he was. Tied by his hands and legs to a chair. Pale-faced, eyes wide with panic. Guilty.

His omega bayed for blood.

Surrounding the traitor, Yuuri’s men formed a semicircle, all standing in attention for their boss’ instructions. Some of them strained to keep a straight face; some of them remained cool and composed, familiar with this kind of situation; and others, like Minami was at the traitor’s side, like Yuuri himself was, could barely keep their bloodlust at bay.

Kiriyama opened his mouth to speak, but as soon as he did Minami had a dagger pointed at his gland. “You only speak if Aniki allows it.”

Yuuri sighed, trying to let out steam before he gave in to the urge of simply clawing the traitor to pieces. He would punish him accordingly. He would make him an example, to never, never cross him, to let them all know status and past loyalty meant nothing in the face of betrayal.

He would have fun as he did, but he would be proper about it.

Putting on airs of serenity, Yuuri readjusted the bladed rings on his knuckles. “Even as I learned one of my own had been guilty of such personal treachery, I wouldn’t have imagined it was you, Kiriyama.”

The traitor’s eyes glistened under the light of the room. A sob escaped his lips, but was quickly silenced by the stinging bite of Minami’s dagger.

“I still remember the day I met you.” He had thought, back then, they were kindred spirits. “I remember how I found you: strapped, on your knees, like a stock animal, after your alpha had his way with you. He was burning the skin of your hands with a piece of heated metal, for daring to hold back his hands as he beat you.”

Kiriyama’s chest convulsed with muted sobs.

“Daring…” Yuuri chuckled humorlessly. “You’ve always been kind of daring, haven’t you?” He came closer to the traitor. “The moment I freed you, gave you a weapon and left that perverse alpha at your mercy, you didn’t hesitate to gut him, bond be damned. After I had you nursed from your wounds and broken bond, you refused shelter in the brothels. You wanted to serve me as a foot soldier; you even made a blood oath to me, even when I didn’t need you to.”

He leveled a stare at the traitor. He was fully bawling now, fat, ugly tears running down his cheeks and nose, biting his lips to keep himself from making a sound.

Yuuri had no pity for him.

“I remember you pledging your devotion, even when I didn’t ask for it, and swearing to follow me to… What was it?”

A sob escaped from the traitor’s lips, Minami’s dagger punctured skin just slightly.

“‘To the depths of Hell if you had to’, I remember you saying.” That’s where Yuuri would send him now.

Still… A part of Yuuri remained restless.

 _Why?_ Why, after all these years of devotion?.

He knew Kiriyama, he knew how he felt about money – he loved cutting apart the greedy, reminded him too much of the parents that had sold him off; he knew he refused association with other clans; he knew he had no interest in alphas. He liked to pretend Viktor didn’t exist, even refusing to look at him; but on the other hand, he had expressed nothing but adoration for Vitaly, and would get himself killed before he ever disobeyed Yuuri.

_So why?_

He couldn’t let it be. He had to know.

“...Have you anything to say about you sin?”

“...A-a-aniki-- P-please… P-p-please lis-listen to _meeee…_ ” The traitor’s voice broke in a sob. Gasps and hiccups spilled off his lips, until the pathetic man got his bearings again. “...P-please… I… I-I-I.. I’m your--I’m your loyal servant, your loyal servant... I-I would n-n-never betray you... _Never._ ”

He had the gall to say that. After murdering Viktor. After murdering his mate. “Your actions say otherwise.”

“No, no-- A-aniki… I-- I did--I did it--I did it for you!!” The main wailed, struggling in his bonds even as Minami cut a thin line over his gland. “A-an-aniki!! He… He was-- He was poisoning you! H-he man-ma-manipulated you! He.. He-- l-l-l-lied to you!!” He wailed each of his words, his expression unsightly. “I saw!! I saw!! I saw when he-- When he dared to-- When he tried to command you!!!” His wails turned harsher, and soon he was screaming at the top of his lungs. “ _That motherfucker!!!_ He would betray you!! Backstab you!! He’s--He’s an alpha!! All a-alphas are like that!! All alphas are monsters!! He was-- He was just waiting! W-waiting for you-- For you to drop your guard! He would have taken your child!! That's what he was plotting!! He would have hurt you!! _Ungrateful bastard!!!_ I had to kill him!! I had to kill--!!”

Yuuri had enough. With furious red filling his sight, he punched the traitor across the face, his bladed rings cutting a gash on the skin. He did again, over and over again, savoring the breaking of skin and bone under his fists.

Minami held the chair for Yuuri to mutilate he traitor as he pleased. He didn’t care when a stray punch grazed across the back of his hand. He was too entertained watching his boss punish Kiriyama.

After a moment, Yuuri forced himself to stop, biting the inside of his cheek to bring himself back to reason. He couldn’t kill Kiriyama yet. It would be too lenient, given the gravity of his sin. No. They had a specific punishment for people like him.

“Viktor was mine. My choice, not yours.” Yuuri removed the rings from his fingers, beckoning one of his men. The underling took the rings from him, and with a reverence and a cruel smile, brought him a wicked dagger wrapped in a white cloth. “You betrayed your brothers, and you betrayed my trust.” He tested the edge of the dagger with his fingers, he felt nothing when it nicked his skin. “...And as you know, we don’t suffer traitors lightly…” He turned.

“Akagi, bring the pliers.”

Through broken face and teeth, the traitor let out a desperate wail. “ _Noooooooo!!! No, Aniki, please!! Please forgive me!!!_ ”

“You are beyond forgiveness.”

Minami pulled Kiriyama’s head backwards by his hair, as Akagi returned with the pliers. Yuuri felt the lust for violence rising, the desire for revenge, his thirst could only be quenched by the traitor’s dying screams. He lifted the dagger to Kiriyama’s face, giving a quick glance to Minami and Akagi by his side. Their eyes shone with anticipation.

“If you want forgiveness, beg for it to the King of Hell.”

Before his mouth was forced open, the traitor let out one last plea. “ _No!!! Nooo!!! Aniki!!! Forgive me!!! Please!!! I d-d-d-- I don’t-- I don’t want to die here!!!_ ”

Yuuri felt a cold shiver run down his spine. For a second, he reeled in confusion.

 

“D-d…

D-d-on...t…

W-w-w-ant…

t… t... Die…

H-h-h-e-re…”

 

 

Suddenly, his sight cleared again. His heart skipped a beat.

Viktor. Struggling and begging for his life, Face teary and torn – by Yuuri’s own hands – as he cried unintelligibly. Akagi forewent any mercy, forcing Viktor’s jaws open, revealing broken teeth and gums, as he shoved the pliers in until it punctured muscle and pulled his tongue out. Minami too had joined in the carnage, pulling harder and harder onto silver locks, piercing into the alpha’s gland deep enough to cause horrible damage.

Yuuri brought a hand to his own fading mark as it flared in empathic pain.

Around him, his men smiled, cheered and laughed at the vicious display, urging their boss to rip out the other’s tongue. They wanted him to rip out Viktor’s tongue.

Yuuri turned his sight to the dagger in his trembling hands. A sharp, serrated thing, made to inflict the worst of pains, to destroy nerves, tissue and muscle.

They wanted him to use it on Viktor.

Yuuri was going to hurl. His omega was going mad with panic.

He couldn’t do this. He stepped back, his legs felt like they were made of lead. All the while, a buzzing sound filled his ears, accompanied only by the dying plea of his mate.

 

_I don’t want to die here._

 

Yuuri lost the grip on his dagger, dropping it to the floor. He couldn’t breathe.

 

_I don’t want to die here._

 

“Hey. Aniki? What’s wrong…?”

 

_I don’t want to die here._

 

_I don’t want to die here._

 

_I don’t want to die here._

 

Yuuri plunged into oblivion.

* * *

 

When Yuuri came back to his senses, he was back inside his room.

He was lying on his bed; he didn’t remember how he got there, but he knew something must have happened to him – again. He rose to sit at the edge of the bed, slowly, as to not get further disoriented.

He heard the bathroom’s door open, and turned. It was Phichit. “Yuuri? Oh, good, you’re awake!”

He was holding a glass of water and a bottle of pills, setting the former over the nightstand and opening the latter as he came to sit by Yuuri’s side. “You kind of blacked out for a moment there. I looked if you had something for that but didn’t find anything, But this could help you, it’s for dizziness and fatigue.” Phichit said as he took one pill from the bottle and offered it to Yuuri, who took it. “Here. Drink slow sips” Phichit held the glass of water to him.

Yuuri did as asked. The cool sensation of the water soothed his nerves, enough for him to begin puzzling out what had happened just a moment ago.

He was in the basement with his men. They were beating, killing someone. They were killing Viktor-- no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no… It wasn’t Viktor… He strained to remember, and at the same time, erase the images of…

Breaking Viktor under his fists…

No. No! _No!_

It wasn’t Viktor, it was… Kiriyama. Yes. It was Kiriyama. He was the killer, they caught him, they were punishing him, and then…

Yuuri couldn’t remember anything more.

He groaned. Did he lose consciousness in front of his clan?

“...Hey. Phichit…?” His voice came out weak, despite his efforts.

“Yes?”

“Did I faint? Don’t tell me I fainted in front of everyone--”

“No! You didn’t faint!” Phichit quickly interrupted him. “You… Well, to be honest it was super weird. You kind of… Spaced out. Like, you were awake, but not really _awake_ … You didn’t fall or anything but just, stared into space and stopped moving. It was kind of creepy.”

Yuuri sighed. “I see…” It did little to comfort him; it still meant he had looked weak in front of his own underlings.

“Don’t think too hard about it. From the looks of it you had already made your point. Minami told him he would ‘wrap it up’. They won’t hold it against you.”

Yuuri stayed silent. He leaned slightly, elbows on his knees. He collected his thoughts. Now Viktor was back in Russia; the murderer had been caught and punished.

There was just one loose end.

“Phichit.” His voice turned deeper. “I’ve been thinking…”

The atmosphere turned dense, oppressive. He knew it wasn’t just him.

“Ever since that night, I’ve wondered how could it happen. Not the reason, but the means. Of course, it turned out one of my own was the culprit, but… You should know, not all my men have permission to enter this room. If someone who’s not allowed did, the others would be alerted.”

Phichit stayed quiet, as his visage grew paler.

“The only people allowed in this room were Viktor, my family, Minako-sensei, Minami, Matsuda, Akagi, you, and me…”

“Y-Yuuri, I--”

Yuuri continued. “Akagi and I were away doing business. My family and Minako-sensei were still at Hasetsu. Matsuda was visiting family. Minami was in the courtyard playing with the pups; and from his word you had joined him a bit past evening…”

Phichit lowered his head, unable to hold Yuuri's gaze any longer.

“And, I remember Akagi telling me it was you who gave him the heads up that Kiriyama went missing that day. You even told him of Kiriyama’s burned hands, which is how they found him…” By now Yuuri was sure the other understood where he was getting at.

“Only we are allowed inside this room, but… We can also give permission to someone else…”

Yuuri’s nails sunk at his knees. “Phichit… Did you allow Kiriyama inside this room?”

After a few seconds, Phichit spoke. “... Yes, I did.”

Yuuri let out a shuddering breath. His head was pounding. His emotions were getting at him again. He had to see this through, tie all ends no matter how difficult. “Why?”

Phichit didn’t lift his head. “I… I was angry… I wanted to get back at Viktor…”

Yuuri’s blood ran cold, he couldn’t have--

“But Yuuri, I swear-- I _swear_ to you I didn’t know Kiriyama had a knife!” Phichit’s voice broke at the end, as he brought a hand to his face. “I did-- I did know he was mad at Viktor. I thought that he would scare him, or threaten him, anything else. I didn’t t-think he would harm him-- I-I mean, I didn’t think anyone here could, they all respect you…”

“I didn’t think he would kill Viktor…” Phichit said. His voice, barely above a whisper, resonated in the silence of the room.

The words alone were unsettling, Yuuri struggled to stay calm. “...But he did.”

Phichit failed to muffle a cry. “... He did…” He broke into sobs with a palm over his mouth. “I’m so sorry Yuuri… I’m so sorry…”

In the deepest recesses of his mind, Yuuri heard his omega fly into a rage, pure murderous drive, demanding him to kill the other, kill him for endangering his mate, for getting his mate killed. Yuuri knew that it would sate his omega’s bloodlust...

But even if his omega wanted it, Yuuri couldn’t. This was still Phichit. Funny, kind Phichit. Who had supported and trusted him for years. One of the few people who still understood him, even after time had made Yuuri so different – for the worse. Despite everything, Yuuri still believed him as he claimed he didn’t intend for Viktor to die. Even if his instincts demanded it, Yuuri could not kill him…

But he couldn't forgive him either.

Yuuri lifted his head, expression cold and impassive, determined to not give in now. “I’ll arrange the earliest flight to Bangkok for you.” His tongue felt like sandpaper. “I expect you to pack your belongings and leave as soon as possible… Don’t ever come back.”

Phichit sobs turned quieter and quieter, until Yuuri heard a soft whisper. “I understand… Goodbye Yuuri... I’m sorry…” Then the door opened and closed again, leaving Yuuri alone in the room.

With only the ever-present stains by the doorway as company.

That night, Yuuri laid on his bed, the pups guarding him. He didn’t bother changing his clothes, the stains would never wash off anyways. He couldn't tell if he fell into dreamless sleep, of if he simply blacked out again. At some point, he thinks there’s a presence moving in the room, but he’s too afraid to turn and see what it is; afraid of what, he isn’t sure.

The next morning, he finds a decorated red box by his nightstand. Inside it there a severed tongue, Kiriyama’s. He couldn't muster any contentment out of it.

* * *

 

Yuuri became aware of how much he'd been deluding himself these last days.

“Minami, come here.”

“Yes, Aniki?” The younger man asked.

Yuuri turned aside, pointing at the floor of his doorway. “Touch the floor here.”

Fleeting bewilderment crossed Minami’s face, but he did as he was told, touching the floor with one hand. “Like this?”

“Yes, now show me your palm.”

When Minami turned his hand around, Yuuri’s suspicions were confirmed. It was clean. Despite touching the pool of fresh blood, it was clean.

“Thank you. You’re dismissed.”

Yuuri waited until the other was out of sight, then kneeled and touched the same bloodstain with his index. He immediately felt the cold wetness on his skin; turning his hand around, there was red coating the pad of his finger.

He knew what it meant...

He abused Viktor’s trust to rip him away from his peaceful life, all for his own whims. He forced a child onto Viktor, to shackle him further. He denied Viktor respite, destroying each and every one of his hopes with satisfaction. He threatened and taunted him with false hopes to keep him in line. He ignored his sorrow, leaving him to waste alone in lament, or worse, keep him company to rub on his despair.

He confined Viktor alone in his mansion, with no one who cared enough to protect him. He taught Kiriyama to hate and kill alphas, the other simply acted on his teachings.

He humiliated Viktor even after death, hiding him in a cellar, in an anonymous body bag like he was a shameful thing; wanting him to bury him in his garden, like some kind of trophy, where no one would weep for him; giving him back to his rightful place, but only after days and days of decay, making him unsightly enough to be forcibly hidden again.

Yuuri did all of that. 

He wonders what could have been, if he hadn't deceived Viktor at the start; if he had allowed the other to choose. Would he have rejected Yuuri? Would he have chosen him anyways? Would he have accepted him, despite his flaws?

... It didn't matter. It couldn't be undone.

Yuuri had acted like a demon. Like the demons of folk tales, he had spirited Viktor away into a world of pain and death.

He hoped that, even if he were nothing but an evil demon, his regret would be enough to appease Viktor’s soul.

That night, in his dreams, he got his answer.

* * *

 

Yuuri knows what this is. It doesn’t make his dread any less.

The sky is an unnatural shade of red. His mansion is wide open; he can see human-like shadows walking about. He makes his way inside, walking casually slow. He’s wearing long sleeves; he knows this because of the sharp tip of a concealed knife pinching the side of his arm every step he makes. Even though he’s still by the foyer, he already knows where his body is taking him.

He can’t will himself to stop. He’s a spectator in his own body.

He can’t tell if the shadows are people or just a trick of the light; for an instant they appear solid, but then they vanish again. They all ignore him, even walking through him.

He can hear muffled voices, talking, laughing, shouting, like it was filtered from behind a thick wall. He recognizes a few words; it makes him aware that these shadows are his underlings.

He’s by the hallway now. He wishes he could stop this. He’d do anything to stop this. But it’s useless now, he can’t do anything but watch.

He wonders why he’s here. Did Viktor want him to see this? Did Viktor want him to see his murder?

Unflinchingly, he arrives. He opens the door quietly. Viktor is in the room, gently rocking Vitaly’s cradle as he sings a lullaby, his back turned to the door, unaware.

Yuuri wants to shout, to warn him, to scream at him to save himself. But his body is quiet as it sneaks into the room.

The blade drops from his sleeve into his hand, turning it for a reverse grip. Trapped inside his own body, Yuuri can do nothing. He wails silently.

His hand touches the other’s shoulder. Viktor turns around. “Yuur--?”

The blade plunges down, and pierces flesh.

Viktor screams and tries to push away, but Yuuri’s body is stronger, gripping him for a second stab. Viktor loses his balance, falling to the ground, knocking the cradle behind him. Yuuri pins him underneath; the other quickly tries to fend himself, hold the armed hand away, but Yuuri overpowers him, and stabs again…

And again…

And again…

And again…

And again… 

By the time he makes two final stabs, Viktor has stopped struggling.

Over the terrified screaming in his mind, he can hear his own labored breaths.

He’s forced to see him then. Eyes dull, blood oozing from his lips, tear-stricken face frozen in horror forever, a growing expanse of red pouring out of his chest, out of the wounds inflicted.

His eyes turn to the side, towards the cradle. There’s no child inside. Only a dark red lump, quickly dissolving to spill onto the ground, mixing with Viktor’s blood.

He stands there, unmoving, until he hears a second voice. “Aniki, you’ve done so well.”

A chill runs down his spine. He regains his mobility then, and turns around.

Kiriyama, torn and mauled as he last saw him, stands before him. He kneels, taking Yuuri’s hands and kissing them reverently, his face split in a gruesome imitation of a smile.

Yuuri gets a long look at his arms then. Under the red coating them, he can see familiar patterns of ink, the irezumi he chose for himself.

In Viktor’s clouded eyes, he sees his own reflection.

All this time he thought he was in the murderer’s body, but instead…

It was his own.

It hits him then.

_He killed Viktor._

“I’m so proud of you, Aniki. You did admirably.”

No. He didn’t. He killed his mate. He killed Viktor. He’s a disgrace.

“Don’t worry about him, nobody will miss him.”

No. No. He was Viktor Nikiforov. He had to be missed. Someone had to miss him.

“He’s of no more use to you.”

No. He’s his mate. _Yuuri needs him._

“He’s was an alpha. Alphas are to be used, bred and discarded. Too dangerous to be left alive.”

No. Viktor was not like that. Viktor was different. Viktor was special.

“He deserved this.”

He didn’t. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this.

He didn’t deserve this…

He didn’t…

_He didn’t deserve this._

 

Yuuri falls hard against the floor, the nightmare still fresh on his mind. Sight dimmed, he rushes to the bathroom, guiding himself with hands and feet, throwing the door open. He barely makes it to the toilet when he’s already hurling, hard and painful, acid burning his throat and nose, expelling the contents of his stomach as if it were the nightmares in his heart. Once he’s empty, and only the sound of dry heaving echo in the bathroom, does he stop.

He stays there, on his knees, and slides off boneless onto the floor. He hears whining from outside. On his line of vision, there’s blood; on his hands, on the toilet, on the sink, on the floor, on his bed… Everywhere.

It’s his fault.

He knows now, it’s his fault. He killed Viktor.

He ruined Viktor, in both life and death.

He cries himself to exhaustion. Morning finds him in the same position, wide-awake, blood still fresh around him.

* * *

 

[Yuuri could no longer tell the days apart.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TWTIELv4FJ4)

He wonders if he’s alive, or if he died without knowing and this is his sentence. He no longer sleeps; or maybe he does, and it’s just the same as his waking days. He goes through the hours with practiced motions. Somehow, he manages to keep a mask of normalcy over his hollow shell; he must be good at it, he supposes, as no one bothers him about it anymore.

He wants for nothing and cares for nothing. He wishes he could give up, but he can’t. He keeps going, if only for the ever distant memory of all the people who depend on him. He guesses he must be depending on them too; if he’s still alive, if he keeps waking up, someone must be caring for him, since he won’t care for himself.

Nobody speaks of Viktor anymore.

Whenever one of his clan members died, be it a soldier, an associate or a family member, the rest would hold a wake for them, make a small shrine, keep their belongings around the place, talk fondly about their life and deeds… It was their way of honoring them.

For Viktor there was nothing.

After Yuuri’s departure to Russia, his men had taken away what little possessions Viktor had – only a suit his previous life, everything else had been bought by Yuuri – and shoved them into the cellar, out of sight. As the man himself remained unmentioned, unmourned, forgotten. The mansion appeared as if the last two years had never happened. Viktor had completely vanished from life, and nobody seemed to care.

Nobody but Yuuri.

Were his men happy that Viktor was gone? Kiriyama had been the only one to wish it badly enough to do the deed himself – Yuuri would forever hate him for that – but no one else cared to mention him. Not Minami, who seemed to be a fan; not Minako, who had followed his career; not even his family mentioned him, even though Viktor had been his mate and the father of his child.

Did the world remember him? Yuuri avoided any news outlet, afraid of having another episode like he did at the onsen. Yakov had mentioned the funeral would be a private affair, but still… It was Viktor, the living legend, wasn’t he? His mysterious disappearance – a _great work_ , Mari had praised him then – and sudden post-mortem appearance… That had to be the talk for ages, right? His teammates seemed pretty attached to him, the blond Yuri in particular; they would honor him, right?

They couldn’t… They couldn’t just forget him…

_They could._

Yuuri had made sure of that.

He wishes he could atone somehow, if only to assuage his own guilt; but he can’t. He cut all ties, and made up false truths, as to make everyone believe Viktor’s fate was his own doing. Even if he turned himself in – maybe the blond would truly kill him if he could – he would be damning his family, Minako-sensei, his clan, and the omegas who seek him for protection.

He can’t drag them down with him. He has to live on with his guilt…

He returns to his room everyday, stained as it always is. It doesn’t matter anymore, not when the blood on his hands never washes off, and now stains wherever he touches. There’s no safe place for him anymore, he was cursed for eternity, just as he had done to Viktor.

Sometimes, the pups’ company would bring him a brief calm. Most of the time, he couldn’t handle even looking at them. As for Vitaly…

Vitaly stays with his parents. He made a promise he can no longer keep. Yuuri’s too unfit, too sinful; his father’s killer. He’s unworthy now; perhaps he’ll never be worthy again.

His mark always burns, even now when it’s almost faded. His bond never stops hurting, like a festering wound. He’s silently thankful of his emotional apathy nowdays, for he’s afraid what his omega  – snarling, howling, violent beast that it became – would do if he allowed his emotions to take hold. In the last few days, his pain reached points where it turned unbearable; no amount of medications could quell the suffering. He thinks he might have begged for death, or Viktor, or both. It took some time for him to find an unlikely solution: the cellar.

Yuuri would sneak in, unsure and uncaring if anyone saw him, and lock himself inside. He would take out each and every single one of Viktor’s belongings and arrange them in a pile in a corner of the cellar, to lay surrounded in them for hours.

Like he did at this moment, curled on himself, holding tight on Viktor’s suit  – the one he was wearing the night Yuuri took him away – like a child would hold a safety blanket. It comforted him, Viktor’s scent. It scared him to admit that the scent grew fainter every passing day, to the point he had forbidden anyone else from entering. He suspects his heat may be nearing. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to survive it; he doesn’t think he cares much anyway.

For now, he just lays where he is, surrounded by his mate’s belongings, cradled by his scent. A brief respite from cruel reality. Maybe today he can have a restful, dreamless sleep.

He lets himself drift into unconsciousness.

 

Soon enough, he’s awakened by a soft lullaby, familiar and blissful to his ears. When he opens his eyes, he sees him...

_Viktor._

Standing by a corner of the cellar. Pure, beautiful, unmarred by blood, filth or wounds. Gentle smile gracing his features, eyes full of adoration for the small bundle in his arms  – Vitaly, must be  – as he rocks him in time with his song.

Yuuri’s breath hitches. Even if this is just a dream, an illusion of his tired mind, he can’t let go. He crawls out of his makeshift nest.

 

“Viktor…”

He doesn’t want to stain him with his cursed hands, covered in Viktor's own blood…  _But he misses him so much_.

 

“Viktor-- Viktor, please…”

He needs him, he needs him, _he needs him_. Even if he doesn’t deserve him...

 

“I’m sorry… I-I-I’m so sorry…”

He needs him to know… How sorry he is… How he regrets it… He regrets it all...

 

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me… Please…!”

He regrets he hurt him... He regrets he killed him...

 

“I’m so sorry… For everything… For everything… Please…”

 _He regrets it so much_. He wishes Viktor knew. He wishes Viktor could forgive him...

 

“P-Please forgive me... Please-- P-Please-- Please. Please f-forgive me-- Please forgive me…!”

He wishes Viktor would look at him, would touch him, even if just one last time...

 

“ _Viktor please...! Please forgive me...!!_ ”

He curls into himself, face against the dirty cellar floor, too pained and distraught to move anymore. He doesn’t know how long he stands like that, bawlings his eyes out, begging forgiveness out of the man he himself killed. His beloved mate.

When he lifts his head again, there was nothing but the blood. Viktor was gone.


	2. AUTHOR'S NOTE

First, I want to apologize to everyone who read this expecting a second chapter, as I had promised, and instead got this author note. I know it must be severely disappointing to some, or predictable to others, but I felt an explanation was long overdue.

 

As some of you may know, this fic was conceived as a gift for Kashoku, based on her own fic Sweet Pandemonium, an already harrowing piece to read, to which I doubled down on the darker elements for this piece. I sincerely hoped Chapter 2 (which is more of an epilogue than a continuation) could be done in a month at most, but several real life factors got in the way of it: daily life taking a turn for the worse, severe money and family problems, pent-up stress taking away my desire to write (which I just recently got back), said stress burning me out from dark stories, and lastly, Kashoku's discontinuation of SP doing away with my more personal motivations for writing this - which, all things considered, I don't fault her for, she's free to write whatever she wants as everyone else is.

 

Honestly, I don't want to abandon this story. Although there's a lot of stuff I wish I could redo, I have something of a sense of pride about this work, plus I feel somewhat guilty about making a promise to you I haven't fulfilled.

 

All I can say for now is that I do hope to finish this fic someday in the future, even if that day isn't anytime soon, and even if every reader unsubscribes by then - as you're in your complete right to do. SP is a story which intrigued me since the first chapter, and continued to do so until its discontinuation.

 

Once again, I'm terribly sorry about coming back to this work with an author note and an undefined hiatus. I do want to finish this, but I don't have the energy or motivation to do so at this time. Hopefully, it will come sooner than later, but in the meantime all I can offer is my apologies, and invite you to follow my newest, fluffier stories if you would still be interested in reading my work.

 

Until then.

 

\- Piroco

**Author's Note:**

> References:  
> \- [Yūrei](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Y%C5%ABrei)  
> \- ["To spirit away"](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spirit_away)  
> \- [Irezumi](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irezumi)
> 
> This devilish plot bunny has been hopping about since November (!!). I made an original draft then, but to be honest it was... ehhhh. Suffice to say I took it to the back burner pretty quickly. I was nothing but a spite-fic then and I figured that was more insulting than anything, so it got scrapped. I kind of forgot about it until SP started updating regularly again, which rekindled my hatred for SP!Yuuri XD
> 
> However, after reading those new chapters I thought, since everyone in the fic is so hellbent on defending Yuuri and adding to Viktor's misery, "What would happen if, instead of Yuuri being punished by an outside force, he's put in a situation where his own crimes become his punishment?" Then I thought: Guilt. After all, you can bribe and escape justice, but guilt isn't so easily turned away (｀∀´)
> 
> (But I had to go and give poor, innocent Vitya an horrible death. Yay me.)
> 
> Some japanese films, Shakespeare and Wikipedia later, this monster was born. This time, I decided for a more experimental, thematic style. You can leave your opinion on the comments below!
> 
> The writing mood was pretty much like this:  
> me: am i going too far?  
> also me: check this out *shows SP Chapters 1-11*  
> me: right, not far enough
> 
> So yeah.
> 
> Also you can come yell at me [here](https://piroco.tumblr.com/ask)


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